a handful of truth with your dinner
by Cora Clavia
Summary: He really wishes she'd stop scaring him like that. Elizabeth Weir is ruining his blood pressure.
1. Chapter 1

a/n: Very minor spoilers for Echoes, so general season 3.

* * *

Elizabeth wakes up slowly, drifting to the surface to find everything sore.

She feels limp and heavy, like every muscle in her body is twice its weight, pulling her down into the thin hospital mattress. It's a dull ache, more like fatigue than actual injury. That's probably a good thing.

Her eyes flicker open and it's exactly the scene she expects: the infirmary in Atlantis, Carson's beloved machinery beeping steadily, and John, of course, sitting beside her, hands folded in his lap.

"Hey." His voice is hesitant, but the relief in his face is unmistakable. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted." Sore. Drained. And completely confused. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"Uh - we were -" she screws her eyes shut, trying to capture it - "on M5S-377. I remember talking to the consul. What was his name? Davor?"

"Davlor. Yeah." He licks his lips, and as distracting as it is, she has the strangest feeling that he's hiding something. "Well, it was an accident. Kind of."

"An accident?"

"We were eating dinner with them, in the consular palace. Davlor's daughter - she was four or five, and apparently, she thought it would be funny to see one of her dad's new guests get sick. So she put some kind of chemical in your food."

"I was poisoned? By a child?"

John lets out a short laugh. "Well - yeah. But for one thing, she's a kid, so she didn't understand exactly how strong it was. That, plus it being a completely new chemical to your bloodstream - the consul had one of their doctors come look at you before we brought you back, and even he said the chemical doesn't affect them nearly as strongly."

Elizabeth scrubs her hands over her face. "I can't believe it. All these times we've visited other civilizations. I've _never_ gotten knocked out like that."

"Yeah, well, you never met a tiny little five-year-old sociopath with too much access to her own world's botany. What can you do?"

She smiles, but it's grudging. There's something he's not saying. He's not meeting her eyes as clearly as usual, and it may be a little thing, but this is John. They can have an entire conversation across a room with just a blink and a glance and a nod.

He should be meeting her eyes, because it seems like everything's fine.

* * *

"Yeah, well, you never met a tiny little five-year-old sociopath with too much access to her own world's botany. What can you do?"

That gets a small smile from her, and John feels himself start to relax. She doesn't seem to remember anything, and Carson's already said she's going to be fine, that the compound is washing out of her system and she's nearly back to full strength.

Even with the doctor's assurances and the steady chirp of the heart monitor, he's relieved to see her awake and aware. He's been on edge ever since the moment she collapsed yesterday, nearly hitting the ground before he managed to catch her. It reminded him far too much of the last time she did that, when he saw blood streaming from her ears as he laid her down in the infirmary.

He really wishes she'd quit scaring him like that. Elizabeth Weir is ruining his blood pressure.

"The good news is, Davlor was so mortified by the whole situation that he offered to throw in a whole bunch more of that red fruit they grow, just to make up for it."

"I liked that fruit."

"Yeah, it was good." Not too sweet, just tart enough to make his mouth water. "And on the bright side, I'm guessing she'll be grounded for at _least_ a week. Maybe even two."

She shoots him the look that says _I'm trying to pretend I don't think you're funny_ , and it's so familiar, so unintentionally affectionate, that he takes in a breath.

He needs to leave.

"I should go - I have a meeting with the security team. I, uh - I'm glad you're doing better."

He can see the confusion in her eyes, but she nods. "Right. Thank you, John."

He makes a semi-graceful exit, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He never, _ever_ wants to go back to M5S-377.


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: You never know what's going to happen when you start writing Sparky fic. I'll be the first to admit, this kind of went in a weird direction.

* * *

After one of the nurses checks her vitals and declares her 100% on the mend, Elizabeth hears a soft voice from across the infirmary.

"Doctor Weir?" Lisa Nelson leans around the corner, cap in hand. She's one of the newest Marines in Atlantis, a petite little blonde with a killer right hook. Rumor has it that she's been cleaning up on poker nights. "I hope I'm not bothering you. I just wanted to see if you were doing better."

"That's what I'm told."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Lieutenant, can you tell me something?" Elizabeth remembers Nelson was with them on M5S-377. Maybe she'll know what has John so squirrelly.

"Of course, ma'am."

"Colonel Sheppard was here when I woke up, and I -" Elizabeth bites her lip - "I got the impression he wasn't telling me something."

Lisa nods slowly, settling into the chair he'd vacated earlier. "What _did_ he tell you?"

"He said the consul's daughter put some kind of poison in my food."

"Huh."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, I don't think he wanted me to talk about it."

"I could make it an order."

"He's my superior officer," Nelson points out.

"And I'm the expedition commander. Did he specifically order you not to tell me anything?"

"Not - in so many words."

"Then it's not a problem."

Lisa eyes her hesitantly. Elizabeth's not affronted; Nelson's new to Atlantis, and this was only her second mission under a brand-new commanding officer. Her personnel report is outstanding, including the words _discerning_ and _judicious_. And if there's a reason Elizabeth can't know, Nelson will respect that.

"Lisa, I will take responsibility if he tries to make this an issue."

"All right, ma'am. I guess you do have the right to know. To answer your earlier question: it wasn't poison." Nelson pulls her chair up closer to the bed so she can lower her voice. "The kid thought it would make you sick to your stomach, but she was so young, she didn't realize exactly what she was putting on your plate."

"What do you mean?"

"Ma'am, you weren't poisoned. You were kind of...roofied."

Elizabeth stares at her.

"After you collapsed, the consul brought in a doctor, and he was trying to explain. I only caught a little bit of it, but basically, for them, it's just a mood-enhancing drug. It slightly enhances the libido. But - well, it - it worked a lot more strongly on you."

Oh, no. No no no. "He just said it made me sick."

"I'm not surprised."

"Did I -" oh, she really, _really_ doesn't want to ask this - "is that why he was a little uncomfortable when he was here earlier?"

The young Marine nods. "He and I were the only ones with you for a while, and - you were -"

"Inappropriate?"

Nelson bites her lip. "To put it mildly, ma'am."

Elizabeth wonders if it's possible to die from embarrassment.

"You passed out in the dining hall, and the colonel caught you when you fell. He carried you into the side room, where the consul said he'd send the doctor, and right as he was putting you down, you sort of - came to - and you grabbed him."

It's like watching a car wreck, except instead of not looking away, Elizabeth just _can't remember_. She's not sure if that's better or worse. "How bad was it?"

"Well." Lisa has the good grace to look moderately uncomfortable about it. "Keep in mind, he and I were the only ones in there. Ronon and the other soldiers were outside the door, keeping everyone out, since the dining hall got a little chaotic when you collapsed."

"And?"

"You were restless, and we needed you to stay put until we could get the doctor, because we didn't know if we could move you, or if there was something serious that needed treatment right then. So he kind of just -" Nelson shrugs - "let you touch him."

Elizabeth wants to die. She wants to sink into the mattress and slip through the floor and float away on the Lantean waves.

"When he tried to leave, you wouldn't let go. Actually, you got his vest off. And his belt." Lisa stops for a moment. "And you were saying some pretty wild things."

"Oh my _God_ -"

"Colonel Sheppard handled it remarkably well. He did his best not to hurt you, but when you were trying to kiss him, he pinned you down and told you he was saying no, because neither of you would ever forgive yourselves, and he cares about you too much to let that happen."

Elizabeth stares at Lisa, mouth open, because there is just no possible _way_ -

"He also mentioned that Dr. Beckett would kill him."

Elizabeth lets out a short laugh. "He's not wrong." Carson's been one of her closest friends for years now. She can only imagine the gallery of creative threats he'd turn to if John had taken advantage of the situation.

Except - she knows, without hesitation, that there's no way John Sheppard would ever have taken advantage of the situation. Even if he -

Well. That's something she doesn't let herself think about.

"Ma'am, I know I'm new here, and I don't know either of you very well. Not to mention, he's my commanding officer." Nelson gives her a wry smile. "I just - he took care of you. For whatever it's worth, he took care of you like it was personal."

* * *

Nelson eventually has to go, leaving Elizabeth stuck in her hospital bed, wondering if the drug's going to clear her system and she's going to remember this story she can only half-believe is true.

She's not sure if that would make it better or worse.


	3. Chapter 3

Carson gives her a clean bill of health that evening, and Elizabeth heads directly for her quarters because she's not sure what else to do. She's still sore, but a hot shower helps ease the ache in her muscles, and she's also been strictly ordered to drink plenty of water.

As she climbs into bed and shuts off the lights, she wonders if John's in bed right now. She wonders if he's lying back just like she is right now, sprawled out, tall and lanky. His hair's always a mess. She wonders what it looks like when he's rolling around on his pillow, all rumpled and -

She stretches out under the covers, wincing, and stares at the ceiling.

No one ever warned her that moving to a new galaxy would be _this_ dangerous.

* * *

After about twice as much sleep as she usually gets in one night, early morning finds Elizabeth at her desk, catching up on reports from various departments. The electrical engineers are terribly excited about whatever new thing they've uncovered in the lower levels of the city.

 _Doohickeys_ , John labels every single piece of tech they find. The engineers no longer let him look at things until someone has decided on a proper name. She's actually seen them hide things when he walks into the lab.

"Dr. Weir."

She glances up, startled. "Ronon! Oh. Good morning." He's leaning in her doorway, clearly halfway through his morning run.

He...doesn't know, does he? Lisa said he was outside. Surely he didn't see her -

He nods at her. "You're feeling better?"

"I am, thanks."

"Good."

He jogs off, leaving Elizabeth marginally more at ease. At least the worst of it isn't common knowledge. If he'd known, Ronon certainly wouldn't have stopped.

She finishes reviewing the engineering report (verdict: the doohickey is very cool, but we don't know what it does yet) and is just about to take her coffee cup back to mess hall when she hears footsteps coming across the bridge.

"I thought you might be due for a refill."

John's right in front of her desk, holding out a fresh cup of coffee, and she's mortified to feel her cheeks flushing pink. It's fine. He's grinning at her easily, eyes bright, his hair its usual mess.

He thinks she doesn't know.

Her shoulders relax for a moment. "I - thank you."

She reaches for the cup, but falters as she blinks at his tousled bedhead. _What if I made his hair like that?_

He reads the hesitation, and his face goes wary. "Something wrong?"

"No, sorry." Elizabeth shakes her head, taking the coffee. Stupid, stupid. "Just -" she stops. "What happened to your arm?"

There are scrapes down his forearm, red and angry against his skin. He'd been wearing his jacket in the infirmary.

She stares at him. "Are you all right? Did you get that checked out?"

"It's not -" He lets out an uncomfortable noise. "It's fine."

"John, you explore alien planets for a living. It could get infected. What happened? Were you off-world?"

He meets her eyes, and -

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Silence stretches on, uncomfortable the way they're never uncomfortable, and in spite of her desk between them it feels like there's nothing around her, leaving her completely vulnerable, and all she can think of is _So, about that time I tried to take your clothes off_ but she's certainly not leading with that.

To his credit, John looks mortified. He's staring determinedly at the wall behind her now, his face scarlet, and she's good at reading body language: he's about ready to run for a puddlejumper and aim for the other side of the planet.

If she'd had any doubts about what happened, they're gone now.

"John, I can't -" she grits her teeth. She's supposed to be good at this. "Lisa told me - what happened, and I'm so, _so_ sorry -"

"It's not - I know it wasn't you." He shoves his hands in his pockets, and she can't help but notice he's still standing across from her. John always sits. He _always_ parks himself on her desk like he was invited. He has no boundaries with her. She's heard people murmur about it; she generally tries to ignore it.

But now he's keeping the furniture between them. The only barrier in the room, and he's behind it.

"I know. I know."

"Elizabeth. Look - we don't have to talk about it. I know it wasn't you."

"Right." She feels like she's missing something. It shouldn't be this easy.

"It didn't mean -" he rubs his neck - "we're not - it's nothing."

They're not. They're not anything, regardless of how many times she's caught him looking at her mouth. Or the number of times she's woken up sweaty and breathless, reaching across the bed for him before she realizes it was just a dream.

"I didn't realize I scratched you."

He flashes her a crooked smile. "You're stronger than you look."

In spite of this being the most awkward thing that's happened - at least since that time their bodies were taken over by aliens trying to kill each other - she can't help but see the warmth in his eyes. Like it always is.

John Sheppard. Ridiculous, maddening, annoyingly handsome.

"You're just now figuring this out?"

He lifts an eyebrow. "You know, you could have just said you wanted to wrestle."

She flushes hotly, and he blinks, like he didn't mean to say that out loud. Like maybe he's thinking about wrestling.

Kind of like she is right now.

"I'm just - glad it's over."

He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and as he licks his lips, Elizabeth can't stop staring at his mouth. "Right. I'll see you later, then."

"All right." It's the wrong response, but she doesn't know what else she's supposed to say.

He turns on his heel, striding slowly for the door, and after a moment, Elizabeth stands up from her desk. She's figured out the right thing for once.

"John. Wait."

He turns, eyebrows up. "Hmm?"

Before she can talk herself out of it, she crosses the room in a few short steps, reaches for him, pulls him close, and kisses him.


	4. Chapter 4

_One week later_

"So how are you feeling today?"

Elizabeth shakes her head. "No better."

"I should probably help, then."

She's about to say something when John pushes her back up against the wall and swallows her words with a kiss.

It's among the worst ideas she's had in her adult life, but his tongue is in her mouth and his hands are sliding under her shirt and then his thigh is pressing hard between her legs and _oh_ that's an interesting angle.

This isn't the first time they've slipped into a supply closet in the middle of the day, but it's the first time she hasn't had a meeting coming up soon to give her a deadline. And suddenly their occasional mostly-innocent little four-minute trysts have turned into something more, something that started out with laughter and a stolen kiss or two and is quickly growing more and more frantic.

His breath is hot on her skin. "Any improvement?"

"Definitely still feeling - _oh_ \- some lingering effects."

"Sounds serious," he murmurs, biting her earlobe. "I should probably check you out. For your health, you know."

He slides his hands under her shirt, and she catches her breath. John has a remarkably playful side, and every time they've done this foolish, immature thing, she ends up not only flushed and sweaty, but smiling like a fool for the rest of the day. He knows her entirely too well, she realizes, and she'd worry about it, but that doesn't seem like a priority at the moment.

The closet is cramped, and she can't help but wonder if they're purposely choosing to meet in these tiny closets where there just physically isn't room for them _not_ to touch each other.

But then, with no warning, his hands go still on her.

"Why are we doing this?" he blurts out.

The question hits her like a brick, and everything is a jumble as she tries to figure out why he's not actively taking her shirt off anymore.

"Why - what?" She lets out something like a laugh, though it might just be confusion, because he's never the one who stops this once it starts. "I assumed you knew that when you walked in."

"No, I mean -" he huffs "- we're in a storage closet. We both have rooms. You even have an office." He shrugs. "Might not be so crowded."

The thought makes her catch her breath, because once she gets John Sheppard into her bed, she has a lot - a _lot_ \- of creative ideas for just what she wants him to do to her body. "I didn't realize you made house calls."

"Oh, yeah," he drawls, leaning in for a kiss that makes her toes curl. "You're long overdue for some bed rest, Doctor."


End file.
